


The Stolen Prince and the Hapless Hunter

by SheWinsHim



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tale Elements, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-08-14 14:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWinsHim/pseuds/SheWinsHim
Summary: Everyone knew the story.  A wronged warlock.  A stolen princeling.  A royal family that wanted nothing more than to get him back.  An entire kingdom that mourned once a year for the loss of their prince.  Since he was a young child, Peter had heard it told so many times he could recite it from heart.





	1. A Cottage In the Woods

Everyone knew the story. A wronged warlock. A stolen princeling. A royal family that wanted nothing more than to get him back. An entire kingdom that mourned once a year for the loss of their prince. Since he was a young child, Peter had heard it told so many times he could recite it from heart.

Like all good pieces of gossip and stories, the actual details of it changed slightly from telling to telling. Sometimes the warlock stole the infant prince because the princess had rejected his advances. Sometimes the warlock stole the prince because the King and Queen had wronged him long ago. It didn’t matter why, at least to the common folk of the kingdom.

All that mattered and stayed consistent were the essential details. A wronged warlock. A stolen princeling. A royal family that wanted nothing more to get him back. An entire kingdom that mourned once a year for the loss of their prince.

It was on this yearly celebration of loss that Peter found himself lost in the woods. Not, lost, per se, as he could see the glow of the castle faintly in the distance. But lost in the sense that he didn’t know where he was or how to best get to the castle. If he was where he thought he might be (which he probably wasn’t) either a river or a ravine stood between him and his soft bed.

The soft voice of Aunt May rang out in his head. “The surest way to find a painful death is to spend a night alone in the woods, Peter.” She had told him this every time he left their cottage to go hunt. Which meant he heard this practically every day, the same worried tone always present. He had always promised her that he would return before sunset, that he would be careful.

Yet today, as he chased a particularly elusive white deer, he had somehow lost his way. It turns out that wooded clearings started to look similar, and tree-covered hillsides all blended together eventually. The sun had sunk so low in the sky, it was threatened to be overtaken by the hills that Peter’s town sat on. So he wasn’t really lost- all he had to do was go westward and hopefully not fall into a ravine/river.

He followed the sun as long as he could before it sunk behind the horizon, leaving him to find his way by the light of the moon and stars. This was, admittedly, a lot harder than he thought it would be. Especially so when Peter didn’t see that the path he was on ended with a cliff, which he promptly was sent tumbling down.

It was hard to follow the stars when they were obscured by a thick layer of branches and leaves. A slight sense of dread was beginning to set into the pit of Peter's stomach. The faint howl of a wolf set his stomach into a freefall. As he frantically stumbled through the brush, desperately trying to find a landmark or clearing of some kind.

As he pushed through the low-lying branches, a glow in the distance caught his eye. It wasn't bright enough to be the town, and as he got closer, he saw it was a solitary cottage, the warm embrace of its lights spreading out among the dark trees.

"Don't talk to strangers," Aunt May's voice warned him. Although, she hadn't ever told him don't seek shelter in a stranger's house when you're stuck in the woods after nightfall. So, despite the slight warning ringing in the back of his mind, Peter knocked on the cottage door.

The most beautiful man Peter had ever seen cracked the door open, his curious blue eyes seemingly staring right into Peter’s soul. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but him and his golden hair seemed to glow like he was made of candlelight.

“Who are you?” asked the man, still looking at Peter as if he was some oddity that one might see in a fair or a traveling caravan.

“I’m- My name is Peter,” he answered slowly, still in awe of the man standing before him.

“Oh. Nice to meet you. I’m Johnny.” Johnny suddenly remembered something, opening the door completely and quickly ushered Peter inside. The cottage was warm inside, even though no fire was lit. Every wall was covered either by lanterns, paintings, hanging plants, the odd mirror, or shelves that were usually filled with books. Peter was so absorbed by the strange furnishings that he barely even noticed being guided into a chair. “Do you want something to eat? You must be starving.”

Before Peter could even answer, a steaming bowl of stew was placed in front of him. Not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth, Peter quickly started to eat, shoveling food into his mouth as he made conversation with Johnny. “Do you live out here all alone?”

“No, my older brother lives here with me.” Johnny glanced at the door so fast Peter almost didn’t notice.

“Where is he? Night has fallen and-”

“He leaves before sunset and comes back after sunrise,” explained Johnny, sliding into a seat next to Peter, staring at him with sparkling eyes. “He wouldn’t be happy to find I’ve let you in.” Johnny clasped his hands over Peter's, startling him. "He always told me to be wary of strangers; that they were dangerous and couldn't be trusted. But you don't seem dangerous."

Peter didn't quite know how to reply, but he did carefully scoot his bow and arrows under his seat. Luckily for him, Johnny seemed more than happy to do the talking for both of them.

"It's been so long since I've met someone new. It's been just my brother and I for so long. Of course, occasionally I'll meet one of his friends, but they're always the same. They don't want to talk to me or tell me anything, just discuss strange things with my brother in harsh whispers." Some thought passed through Johnny's mind, and he changed topics. "How did you get here? Brother said that no map nor trail could lead someone here."

"I- I'm lost. I was trying to get home but I lost my way and ended up here," explained Peter. He started to get up. "If you could just point me in the direction of town, I'll be on my way."

"Of course." Johnny led him to the door, disappointment obvious on his face. “Just follow the path until your reach the road. But be warned, it will disappear behind you so you will not find your way back.”

Something stirred inside Peter. Johnny was lonely, extremely so. He could be no older than Peter, yet it seemed he had only his brother and the occasional silent visitor for company. “What if I wanted to come back. Say, tomorrow. Is there any way I could return?”

Johnny looked surprised, yet a faint and genuine smile crept up his lips. “I-”

“How does your brother leave every sunset, yet return every sunrise?”

Johnny pursed his lips, some conflict quietly raging inside him. Suddenly and silently, he ducked inside, returning with an unlit lantern. “Take this, and whenever you want to find me, light this lantern and follow the path it reveals.” Peter took the lantern from Johnny's hands, glancing at the seemingly mundane object. "Get home safe, Peter."

A smile cracked Peter's lips. "I will, Johnny."


	2. A Second Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes good on his promise to Johnny, returning the following night.

Aunt May had been too relieved that he was alive to be mad at Peter. She had stayed up until he got home, which was a few hours before sunrise.

"Are you okay?" she kept asking, frantically patting down his body to check for any injuries she might have missed the other times she had done this. "What happened?" she asked finally, noticing a certain stillness in Peter.

"Nothing," he assured her, holding her hand in his and leading her to her bed. "It's late. Well, early. Get some sleep."

"You too, Peter. Maybe Jameson will let you take the day off," suggested Aunt May. Peter smiled, quietly wondering why her faith in Jameson’s heart hadn’t followed its example and shriveled long ago.

"Maybe."

And so, once the sun began to sink lower into the horizon, Peter stole out into the forest, carefully lighting the lantern Johnny had given him. True to Johnny’s word, a path was illuminated, a winding trail that crept over rocks and through fallen trees. Under the watchful blaze of Johnny’s lamp, the forest’s dangers seemed to melt away; Peter heard nary a wolf nor beast of any kind as he approached the cottage.

The glow of the lantern lead him steadily to the cottage. It seemed so friendly against the dark and mysterious forest. It was almost like its own presence dispelled any possible danger. The oddly comforting glow of the cottage lights seemed to welcome Peter and the lantern, like a returning friend.

Yet even the lantern’s glow couldn’t compare to Johnny’s radiance, which spilled out of the cabin when he opened the door. To Peter’s sleep weary eyes, he was a lighthouse cutting through the dark. An angel to rival any cherubim or most seraphim. When he smiled, Peter was sure even Michael himself would be green with envy.

“You’re back!” exclaimed Johnny once they were safely inside the cottage, steaming plates of food sitting before both of them. “I was worried something had happened to you.”

“I said I would come, and I did,” Peter assured him. He didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to give this almost-stranger anything he wanted or asked of him. Maybe he was dehydrated. Or sleep deprived. Honestly, either of those were completely viable explanations. That would also explain why everything seemed so weirdly  _ nice _ , so much more comforting and friendly than anything Peter had ever known. Maybe Aunt May was right about the faerie circles in the forest- maybe he had stumbled in one.

“What’s that?” asked Johnny, pointing to a small pouch that Peter clasped tightly in his hand.

“It’s a present,” explained Peter. When Johnny just stared, he elaborated, “I got it for you.”

“Oh! You shouldn’t have!” Johnny quickly, taking the pouch from Peter gratefully. “It’s a comb.”

“You don’t like it?” A blush crept to Peter’s cheeks. This gift had probably accomplished nothing but embarrassment and an awkward situation.

“I love it,” professed Johnny with a childish grin. He turned the comb over in his hands, running his hands over the rough patterns hewn on its sea blue surface. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“You’ve never seen a comb before? Well, you run it through your hair-”

“No, I know what a comb is. I’m secluded- not dumb.” Johnny lifted the comb up in the air, examining it in the light. “What’s it made of?”

“Oh. I don’t know.” Peter tried to recall what the shady vendor he had bought the comb from had said. “The guy I bought it from said a mermaid made it for her lover from sea foam. But then he dumped her or something so she killed herself. Anyways, that’s probably all horseshit; no one in their right mind would sell a mermaid’s comb for just 2 pence.”

“A comb of sea foam,” started Johnny.

“Hair as gold as corn, and love as strong as steel,” finished Peter. He had heard the saying hundreds of times- it was one of the many ways people said you could do magic.

“What?” Johnny looked confused, perking up a little at this new thing.

“A comb as blue as sea foam, hair as gold as corn, and love as strong as steel,” Peter said. Johnny just stared blankly back at him. “It’s a little thing people say- supposed to be magic or something.”

“The words are magic?”

“No, if you get all of those things, they’re magic. Supposed to free prisoners or break curses or something like that.”

“So this comb is magic?” asked Johnny, his voice full of wonderment. He turned the comb over in his hands like he was truly seeing it for the first time.

“No, once you get all the items-”

“You really didn’t have to get me a magical comb,” assured Johnny with a smile creeping up his lips. “But I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile as well. “You’re welcome.”

They talked for hours, yet it seemed to pass in just minutes. Johnny seemed infinitely curious about the outside world- everything from the monthly fair to Peter’s job. Peter thought that recounting every possible aspect of his life would be boring, but something about Johnny’s pure joy brought a new kind of beauty to the mundane. Eventually, Peter had to go home, get some sleep. But before he went, he promised he would return the following night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is just as bad as I remember. Stress is just lovely.


End file.
